sip of coffee peach and blue the sky and everything is every each and which and shade of sun define betweenness as a cold wind breezy toasty blows upon and over under through it all and jazz is playing playing too and wafting through the proofs of theorems playing building self-define recursive algorithmic computation theory real and hard and fast of thought of intuition constructs mental float and nebulously come to find disorder pass it prove it disassemble cappuccino stout and mondays tuesdays wait and catch unwary giddy toasty paperboys and girls and spin if dark with memory in giga- googol-bytes the universal through the sky and through the window pane and suffer happily so long as this is proven make it so and lovely number one disorder turns to tangible by process seem so random will you predilection wants it pretty testing ground reality should be as slick and logical as this the book of lust is open to the day and writ in lines of liquid hazy days of winter mourning sun is setting but platonic realms and sets of sets will be forever count the days are rolling over under all of this ananda coursing through the worldlines singing music of the spheres is ringing and a piece of toast.

J. Horne